Next Generation
by Red-Handed-Bandit
Summary: Christine and Michael have been kidnapped one day after school. With a threatening phone call and only eight hours to save them, can the team find enough evidence to locate their missing children alive?
1. Chapter 1

The smell of damp clothing and sticky feet filled the school gym. Christine found it odd that she would rather smell embalming fluid and dead bodies than sweaty high school students. The two things smelled just as bad, but the latter was more her style. High school was supposed to be a place of learning, but instead, it was a place for teenagers to hook up and have their hormones twisted into pretzels. Not only that, but the teachers kind of sucked. No one understood any of the material. Other than Michael, she was the only kid that really _got _what they were learning.

She could thank her dad for having all of the same classes as Michael. Being the daughter of an FBI agent and a world renowned anthropologist could do wonders when dealing with teachers and principals. Even though most of her teachers, especially science, were undereducated, but Christine would rather go to public school than private. It wasn't the cost, it really wasn't, but it was the uniforms and the smart snobby kids. In public school, she was known as the "genius" or "nerd" along with Michael, but in private school, so many other kids were smarter and would tear her down. The kids at her current school only made fun of her for being smart, if she transferred to private school, it would be because of her being stupid.

Michael wheezed beside her, his buttery fingers smearing his glasses lenses as he pressed them up his nose, "I really, really hate PE."

Christine gave a sympathetic smile, "You look like you're about to asphyxiate."

"I might as well," He said, swiping off his glasses before wiping them uselessly on his wet shirt, "Who even needs to play basketball anyways? Why can't we do something-"

"With dirt?" She cut him off, "You are so much like Hodgins."

"Well I _am_ his son," Michael answered, "What about you? What would you rather do instead of this?"

"Karate," She answered simply, dodging a few players as they darted for the ball.

He snickered, "Of course you'd say that, you're great at it."

"You would be too if you had agreed on taking classes with me," Christine muttered, glancing over at the PE teacher.

Michael shrugged, "I didn't want to miss summer camp."

"With your dad?" She asked flatly just as their teacher blew the whistle.

"Booth, Hodgins, get your asses onto the court!" Their coach yelled.

Michael rolled his eyes, "Typical, picking on the weak kids while the cheer team sits on the bleachers looking all sexy as can be."

"Weak?" Christine scoffed, "Speak for yourself."

* * *

As school let out, crowds of teenagers swept into the parking lot and streets as they headed home. Christine and Michael walked side by side along the chain link fence, heading towards her house. Both of their parents had said they would be home late, and what could be better on a Wednesday night than finishing homework and mess around with household items? It wouldn't take long for them to find something to experiment on, and Christine _did_ live right next to a forest with several dead things, bugs, and plants.

"Is Parker gonna be there?" Michael asked, squinting as he looked towards the setting sun.

Christine shrugged, "Who knows, he's supposed to be off at college for computer engineering. I haven't seen him in a few months." Christine paused, "You know you should stop looking directly at the sun, it causes blindness."

"Like I'm not already blind," He sneered, holding his glasses up for her to see.

Christine rolled her eyes, "You aren't completely blind, dumb ass."

He sighed heavily, "But I will be when I get older."

"As will several others. As humans increase in age, several of our external senses begin to fail." Christine shrugged, "It's just what happens."

Michael's nose scrunched up, "You sounded like your mom right there."

"Huh," She paused, "I guess I did."

The rest of the way to her house was led in small conversation, having to do with the chemistry homework that had been assigned earlier that day along with their usual conversation, _what is your perfect murder?_ Both knew that there was no one perfect murder, and that their parents would be able to figure out who did it and the cause of death was easily. But that was the challenge, figuring out the most intricate and complicated murder without leaving too much evidence.

As Christine reached the door, she continued, "But if you burned the gloves-"

"You'd still be able to find particles of what type of fabric was used-"

"And when you found that out, you would be able to figure out what kind of article of clothing it was-"

"Where they would eventually track down who bought what, where, and when," Michael finished with a flourish.

Christine grinned, shoving the front door open with her shoulder. The door had started sticking lately from age and wear, and needed a little extra umph to open and close. Her dad would have to fix it that upcoming weekend. "But what if you already had the clothing item, lets say gloves, for a while and hadn't used them in several years."

"But what would happen when someone noticed that you didn't have them anymore?"

"Couldn't you say you loaned them to a friend and never got them back?" Christine asked, throwing her keys onto the dining room table.

Michael shook his head, tossing his bag onto the counter top before opening the fridge, "Too suspicious."

Christine pursed her lips as Michael pulled out a yogurt, "You _could_ throw the ashes in a lake or river... but there would be witnesses."

"Unless you pretended it was a dead relative's ashes you were spreading," Michael offered, waving a plastic spoon in the air.

Christine shook her head, "And when the FBI or someone else figured out you had no cremated friends or relatives?"

He laughed once, "Guess you'd have to commit another murder to just make the other have a legitimate story. Now how would you commit _that_ one without our parents figuring it out?"

"Easy, you kill our parents," Christine smirked, pulling out an English textbook.

Michael took a spoonful of pink yogurt, "Now _that_ would be the perfect murder. Killing the only people that would be able to figure it out."

"It would be a lot of people to get rid of... but how would we do it?" Christine asked curiously, "Poison?"

"My dad would be able to figure out if he were being poisoned, what about stabbing?" Michael asked, taking his food to the table.

"My mom and dad would be able to take you down in two seconds." Christine pulled out a stack of notes onto the table.

"Gunshot to the head?"

Christine paused before flipping to the correct page in her book, "Possibly."

Michael rubbed his hands together, his curly hair bouncing from the motion, "Alright, now we're getting somewhere."

She shoved her book over to Michael, "Yeah, now let's get to work."

* * *

It only took a couple of hours to get their homework done, and even then, their parents were still at work. With time to spare and nothing else to do, the pair of prodigies explored the forest of a backyard. Michael's arms were filled with glass test tubes and containers while Christine held a flashlight to lead their way. The sun was well below the trees and stars were beginning to peek out from the night sky. Christine paused at the sound of a twig snapping, her head whipping back to face Michael who stared back sheepishly.

"Sorry, I never learned to tread quietly," He said, his breath visible.

The temperature had cooled considerably in the few hours they had spent inside. A dampness and fog had settled in as they crept through the darkness. Christine couldn't help but feel like they were being watched, no matter how many times she had traveled into the woods with her family, she never felt safe. The tall trees and dense canopy were never enough cover for her, but her father always thought differently. He had said that this was probably the safest place to be if there was any danger because, one, she knew the place like the back of her hand (her dad had made sure of that) and, two, it would be hard to shoot someone with all the trees in the way.

"It's fine, you know how protective my dad is," Christine reassured as she avoided a large and curved twig.

Michael didn't notice the twig and proceeded to stumble onto it, nearly crashing to the ground along with his collected moss and bug samples. Christine let out a small chuckle as he regained his balance. He rolled his eyes, adjusting his hold on the samples as they continued on. Another snap came from ahead of them, causing Christine to shine her light on a nearby bush.

"What was that?" Michael breathed, coming closer to Christine, as if she were surrounded by a shroud of safety.

Christine shut off the light, sending them in complete darkness, "An animal... we get coyotes back here... maybe even a rabbit." She swallowed hard, as if cotton had been shoved down her throat.

Michael shook his head, accidentally dropping his glasses in the process, "It was too noisy to be a rabbit... or even a coyote."

"We need to get back to the house," Christine's voice was in his ear, her voice barely audible, hot breath tickling his ear.

"I-I dropped my glasses..." He muttered hastily, his voice growing dry as he bent over to pick them up.

Another shuffle caused him to drop his samples, grabbing onto Christine's arm, "Chris, help me get out of here. I can't see-"

"I got you," She whispered reassuringly, Pulling him in another direction.

As she led him towards what she thought was the house, she couldn't help but trip over branches and twigs. Michael seemed to be ten times louder than she, it was no surprise either since even in the light, he wasn't able to walk without stepping on even the largest of branches. Now with the sound they were making, it would be easy for something to track them back to the house. Christine strained her ears to hear anything behind them, for the shuddering of leaves or the crack of a stick, but nothing other than their own movements could be heard.

"I think it stopped following us... I'm gonna turn on my light now. Alright?" It was for her own reassurance, she needed to see if anything was around them.

As she snapped the light on, her heart sunk to the pit of her stomach, and dropped the light, making the man's face invisible in the dark. She hadn't seen it before she had dropped the flashlight but she had definitely seen the silhouette of a man. Her mind whizzed into action. Very male, possible 193.04 cm (6'4") 200 or more pounds, and _very_ muscular.

"Chris? What's going on?" Michael asked in the silence, he couldn't see what was going on.

She jerked him from their position, trying to run around the towering figure but was met with a blow to the temple. He had hit their heads together, not too hard, he wanted them alive. At least... for the next few hours.


	2. Chapter 2

The lights inside the house were still on, a yellow glow filtering out from the windows as Booth and Brennan pulled up. Angela and Hodgins pulled up next to the curb, waiting to pick up Michael. Booth smirked at the sight of all the lights, it had gotten considerably dark since they left the Jeffersonian, but he figured the lights had been on even when the sun was shining. No matter how many times Brennan lectured Christine on conserving electricity, it never seemed to get through to her.

He bounded up the steps, hearing nothing as he stepped closer to the door. No voices, no music, no TV. Maybe they had fallen asleep? It had happened more than once, both kids had been studying for a test the next day, and had fallen asleep on the couch with their books still in their laps. He had taken a picture of that, he still had it, even though Christine had asked him to delete it from his phone.

As he opened the door, a chill ran down his spine, the hairs on the back of his neck standing. Booth frowned slightly, feeling a draft that seemed to come from the kitchen. An open window? The thought didn't calm his nerves, but bundled them tighter. He took a tentative step further inside the house, before moving towards the living room. The couch was empty, only small wrinkles in the fabric as evidence that Christine and Michael had been there.

Brennan had looked around the kitchen, finding their backpacks and textbooks lying on the table along with a half empty yogurt container. She glanced almost nervously towards Booth before looking towards the staircase. She stepped towards the base of the stairs, and called for their names.

"Michael? Christine?" She asked, not necessarily yelling, but loud enough to hear through the house. She counted to three, waiting for a reply, but got none.

Booth shoved his hands in his pocket, following the source of the draft to find the back door was wide open, "Bones."

Brennan looked towards him, "You think they could be out in the forest?"

"The door's open," He answered simply, "Get me a flashlight."

She rushed towards one of the kitchen drawers and pulled out a heavy duty flashlight and extra batteries. Booth had always insisted on carrying extra batteries ever since the first time a flashlight had failed him. He had been so embarrassed by loosing a suspect in the dark because his light died and swore that it would never happen again. Brennan found that this was unnecessary, the batteries took up more space than needed.

Booth took the light and batteries gratefully, flicking it on and traveled down the patio and towards the back gate that led into the dense trees. He ran the light across the trunks, to see if he could catch a glimpse of anything shiny or human-like. He found nothing. Booth gave a heavy sigh, he was definitely going to talk to Christine about staying out in the woods after dark. Brennan followed from behind, carrying her own, smaller, flashlight.

It was easy to find where they had gone, Booth could tell that Christine and Michael hadn't even tried to hide their being there. What Booth couldn't understand was the less noticeable trail, almost invisible in the dark, and compared to the tracks that Christine and Michael had left, it looked like a small animal's. But when the paths merged almost perfectly, the one disappearing completely, Booth's pace quickened. He prayed Christine had been practicing "treading lightly" as she would put it.

"Booth?" Brennan's voice grabbed his attention, stopping him in his tracks.

"Yeah, Bones?" He called back, flashing his light over in her direction.

She held up a pair of broken glasses with the tip of a pen, "Are these Michael's?"

Something caught in his throat but he forced it down, "They look a lot like the ones he wears."

As Brennan took out an evidence bag to put the glasses in, Booth almost cussed but instead asked, "What are you doing?"

She looked up, "This doesn't look like an accident..." her voice faltered.

Just as Booth moved towards her, a glint on the ground caught his attention. He flashed the light over the ground again, seeing shards of glass sparkle from the reflection. Specks of blood and some sort of fabric clung to the glass, giving an eery look to the entire area.

He was about to say something, say anything to break the silence between him and Brennan, but the buzz from his phone kept him from doing so. He pulled it out from his pocket, "Booth."

"We have your daughter and her friend. If we don't have four million dollars in locker 307 at Capitol South Metro Station in eight hours, they both die. You will hear from me in two hours."  
The voice was distorted, an all too clear reminder of the Gravediggers messages.

"Booth?" Brennan asked, stepping closer, she looked concerned, "Who was that?"

He let his hands drop to his sides, "Someone has her. Bones... someone has Christine and Michael."

* * *

It was dark, almost impossible to see. Not much different from what Christine remembered from her earlier predicament. She tried to move her arms and legs, only to feel the uncomfortable pinch and sticky residue from duct tape. Both her ankles had been taped to the chair legs, making it impossible to stand or kick, and her hands had been pulled behind her back, taped at the wrists.

Christine looked around, trying to decipher where she could possibly be, but with no visible windows or lighting, it was extremely hard. She closed her eyes, just because she couldn't see didn't mean she couldn't figure out where she was. She had learned that from Hodgins, he had always told Michael and her that you could get a basic idea of your location just by the objects around you. Namely bugs, slime, and dirt.

Sucking a deep breath of air, she got a taste of her location. A damp, moldy room. That was it. Christine gave a puff of breath, groaning. How would that help? Unless she knew what type of mold and could see the bugs that were crawling up her legs, there was no way of telling where she was, and even then, that wouldn't really help. Maybe she was underground. Or above ground. But then how could it be so dark? She agreed with herself, definitely underground.

Mumbling came from in front of her, too low and muffled to be from inside the room. A man was talking, possibly into the phone, but as far as what he was saying, she couldn't tell. The thought of Michael popped into her head after a few seconds of listening. He had been with her when they were attacked. Was he in the room?

"Michael?" She asked, her voice gravelly and hardly recognizable.

No answer.

"Michael!" She called again, only to hear the ear splitting screech of a door opening.

She must be somewhere with a lot of water. With all the mold, possibly rust, and that musty smell, it would be unlikely she was in the desert. Light filled the room, a painful shock to her eyes as a tall, dark figure stepped inside. Christine squinted up at the man, it was too dark to see what he looked like, her mind was reeling with information she _could_ get. He was the same height as the man from the night before... or whenever that _was_ exactly, the same build, the same everything. It was extremely likely that this was the same man. Her captor.

"Where's Michael?" Christine asked, trying to sound harsh, only to hear her voice crack. She was terrified.

At first, she gained no answer, as she opened her mouth to ask again, a booming voice replied. "He's somewhere else."

Christine bit her lip, glancing at the room. Rust, metal, the walls and floor were damp, something looked like blood smears, piping ran across the ceiling, and a drain sat in the middle of the floor.

"What do you want from us?" She asked, warming up to using her voice.

She heard a chuckle, "What do you think?"

"Money, revenge...? I could go on if you'd like," Christine searched for where his eyes could be but felt as if she were just staring at his forehead.

There was a long pause, causing her eyes to shift to the floor. He towered over her, even more so when she was sitting down. It was hard to look at him, even though she had no idea what her really looked like. If she got out of this, she wouldn't be able to say what he looked like, just what his voice sounded like and that he was tall. The latter was pretty useless, DC was a large city, and with all the men that were 6'4'', that type of information wasn't helpful in finding a specific person. Christine glanced behind him and into the hallway. From the greenish blue hue that filtered into the room, she could guess there was florescent lighting, everything else looked the same as inside the room she was already in.

"If your parent's listen to the warning, you and your friend will be out in a few hours." He said after a while.

He stepped back out from the room, his hand on the steal door, about to close it with an ear piercing shriek, Christine called out to him, "What if I have to go to the bathroom?"

She heard a laugh, "That's what the drain's for, sweetheart."

* * *

Booth slammed his key card into the machine, jogging up to the platform at the Jeffersonian, the others close behind. When he had told Hodgins and Angela about the call, they collected all traces of Christine and Michael before heading to the lab. Cam was on her way to meet them. Hodgins slammed his fist against the table and let out another cuss, his face bright red. He was flustered, just like everyone else. They had all dealt with kidnappings before, but this time it was their children. This seemed to cross an invisible line even worse than harming a partner.

"Dammit!" Hodgins yelled even louder then before.

Angela placed her hands on his shoulders, "Jack," she said quietly.

He stared at her incredulously for a few seconds before cooling down, "I-I just feel so useless."

"I know..." She said calmly, "I do too, but we'll find them." The comment seemed to be more for herself then for her husband, but it seemed to comfort everyone in the room.

There were a few moments of brief silence, no one wanted to look at the evidence, at what this could all mean. It seemed so unreal, all were hoping it was just another nightmare. But they all knew it wasn't, they needed to find whoever was doing this within the next eight hours or else their children would die. Bones opened her mouth, ready to jump into action but was cut off.

Cam charged through the sliding glass doors, "Alright, what are we up against?"

Booth rubbed the back of his neck, "They want money. That's all I could tell, and they sounded pretty serious."

She exchanged looks with the rest of the team, "Then why don't you give them what they want? Pay the money, get the kids."

"Because," Booth sighed, leaning against an examination table, "We don't know if they'll kill them anyways. It's happened before."

Brennan stepped forwards, motioning for Cam to look, "We gathered some evidence, once we test the blood samples from the glass and Hodgins tests for any particulates, we can get a better idea of what we're dealing with. Maybe even find out who was on the other side of that call."

From what everyone else could see, Bones seemed undisturbed by the the matter at hand, but underneath it all, she felt like screaming or even crying. A mournful glance at Booth was just enough to get her through this... this... whatever this would be considered. As a defense, she was shutting herself off. Only facts and results would be expected from her. There was no room for frustration and idiocy, her child's life was at stake, and if she wanted to see Christine again, she would need to be strong.

* * *

To pass time, and to keep her mind off of the fact that her life was in danger, Christine began whistling. At first, the sound was strained, the notes short and cut off, as if making noise was a taboo in this room. But as time passed, and no one seemed to notice the sound, her whistling grew louder and transformed into songs. One came after another, one ending and another starting a few seconds later. It kept her focused on something, drowned out the world around her and the embarrassing fact that she had soiled herself several times. The smell of urine was present, but that didn't keep her from whistling.

The door scratched against the concrete as a smaller, frailer figure stepped into the room. Bright light flooded into the prison, blinding Christine for a few seconds. Again, she was only able to see his silhouette. She watched how this man carried himself, how he limped with every step he took, how every movement seemed almost painful. Christine narrowed her eyes once she noticed a bucket.

"What's that for?" She asked, not as frightened by this particular captor.

"Water," He answered skittishly.

Then it dawned on her, "Osteoporosis..."

Her captor stopped in the middle of the room before pulling out a ladle, water spilling over the sides, "Drink."

She hesitated as the spoon was pressed against her lips, but decided to drink. Suddenly, she was desperately thirsty, and when the water was drained from the ladle, it wasn't enough. He didn't offer her any more and she didn't ask.

Christine watched him turn and begin to leave the room, "Hey."

He turned, giving her a glance of what he looked like. Golden hair and dark eyes. From the shadows, his cheeks were shallow and his skin an unhealthy green, most likely due to the poor lighting. It was enough to get an ID, especially when he had a disease like Osteoporosis. He stared expectantly, waiting for her to speak.

"Is Michael okay?" Christine asked.

"Yes."

She looked to the ground, "My parent's are gonna come after you... you know that, right?"

"Is that a warning?" He sounded nervous, as if _she_ were the one threatening his life.

"Yes."

He shifted in his position, "Things wont be complicated unless they make it complicated. No one will get hurt if your parents do what we say."

Christine smirked, "Things wont go as smoothly as you plan."

"We have you. Your parent's will listen to us."

"Then you don't know my parents."

* * *

Sorry if some parts seemed a little fast paced or out of character. :p Hope you like it and thanks for all the comments :) I really hope Christine doesn't sound like a Mary Sue XP I'm trying to make her into a mixture of Booth and Brennan, cause you can't expect their child to be not like a mix between them XD So I'm making her have some skills in science and have the ability to protect herself because I really doubt Booth wouldn't train her on kicking someone's ass.

Again, thanks for the support and the comments!


	3. Chapter 3

Searing pain shot through his left temple, leaving him grimacing in the dark. Michael's head lolled to the side as he tried to take in his surroundings. It only took him a moment to realize his glasses were missing, and something wet and sticky was dripping down his forehead. Most likely blood, which would explain why his head hurt so much. The last thing he remembered was being hit over the head with something. But he had a niggling feeling at the back of his mind, as if he could barely remember something after that. He had a fuzzy picture of him being dragged over rocks and branches before being shoved into a trunk with Christine...

He was with Christine.

"Chris?" He called out, listening to his voice ring around the room.

Nothing.

"Christine!" He yelled louder, wincing again as the sound bounced off the walls.

Michael sucked in a deep breath, breathing in the musty air, trying to get a feel of where he could be. The room itself seemed small with high walls, from what he could tell. Most likely a square shaped room, possibly 8x8 feet. How tall it was would be trickier to figure out. This was not good. Not good at all. He had been kidnapped with Christine, and he didn't even know where she could be. For all he knew, she could be dead.

_No,_ he chastised himself, she couldn't be_ dead_. But she could be hurt... or dying. He needed to get to her, help her, wherever she was. Michael yanked his wrists and ankles against the duct tape, hoping something would give, but other than the uncomfortable rub and pinch of tape, nothing happened. He gave a frustrated groan, wincing again at the pain in his temples. He needed pain killers, and his glasses... If he were to go on a rescue mission, he would need his glasses or else he was of no use.

A door creaked open, filling the room with bright light, blinding Michael in the process. A short figure stepped up with a bucket full of some sort of liquid. Michael saw his chance. His chance to find Christine.

"Chris!" He bellowed despite how much it hurt to hear his own voice, "Christine!"

And that's when he heard it.

"Michael?"

"Christine, where are you?" Michael called.

"A dark room, I-" He heard her scream bloody murder.

"Christine!"

A large figure shoved the smaller one to the side of the room, "There was a reason we separated you two."

Michael squinted at the figure, trying to make out the fuzzy looking blob. Before he could see any distinct colors, a firm hand struck him in the stomach, leaving dark spots in his vision as he retched. Another blow to the stomach knocked his chair over, and into a shallow puddle. Michael watched the colors around the edges fade until the bright lights and contrasting shadows disappeared completely.

* * *

Brennan paced the platform, stopping only when she saw Hodgins barreling towards her, out of breath and trembling. She watched him curiously, trying her best to keep calm, but in this situation, she was sure they would understand her unease. Everyone was on their toes.

"The traces of blood we found on the glass match Michael's-"

Brennan cut him off, "And?"

"_And_, I found some _Cylindrospermopsis raciborskii _on his glasses." He smiled at the group, watching as they raised their eyebrows, "Algae." Hodgins explained breezily.

"This should help _because...?"_ Booth asked.

Hodgins sucked in a deep breath, "It's not just any algae, it's Blue Green algae. It grows in fresh water and leaves a distinct musty smell. It can also be found in gravel and-"

"Get to the point, Dr. Hodgins," Cam interrupted.

"Right," he nodded, "anyways, on the algae were traces of gravel and steel. If we use the Angelatron, I can figure out where there are trace amounts of gravel, Blue Green algae, _and_ fresh water."

Angela headed to her office, "I'll help you with that."

Cam nodded, following the two as the disappeared into Angela's office, leaving Booth and Brennan to their thoughts. It took only a moment for that silence to be broken by a ring. Booth fumbled with his pockets to grab his phone.

"Let me talk to my daughter," he answered immediately.

"I'm sorry, but your daughter is a little _busy _at the moment," came the reply.

Booth snapped his fingers quietly to a nearby security guard, giving him the signal to trace the call, "I swear to God, if you touched her-"

"Agent Booth, calm-"

"Don't tell me to calm down," he barked into the receiver. "If you don't let me speak to her, I'm not giving you the money."

There was a long pause over the phone, leaving Booth breathless. He prayed that the man on the other side of the call wouldn't hang up. He let out a deep breath as he heard a shuffling, along with a loud creak.

* * *

Light burst through the room, causing Christine to squint at the figure. Something about her father wanting to talk to her. The phone was pressed against her ear, and she gave a groan. Her dad was speaking quickly, she couldn't understand him.

"Say hello, sweetheart," her captor hissed.

Christine sucked in a deep breath, this _might_ work, "6'4'', osteoporosis, blonde, male, cau-"

A fist connected with her cheek, tipping the chair to the floor. Christine let out a cry of pain, barely hearing her dad screaming on the phone. Her arm hurt, she felt the crack, she didn't want to move it. Oh God, it _hurt_.

* * *

He wasn't expecting her to give him information, he was expecting a "dad!" or "help me" but instead, he got descriptions. And right as she was saying something, one of the men, no, one of the _bastards_ that had her and Michael hit her, injured her. All he could do was yell into the phone, hope that she was alright, but from what he could hear, Christine wasn't alright. Something had happened, she had screamed from the pain, screamed for him. Christine was usually tolerant of pain, but this, this was something entirely different.

"Christine!" He yelled once again before letting a wave of curses wash through the receiver.

Nothing around Booth registered, not the touch of Brennan, only the whimper of his daughter. _His_ child was in danger, and he could do nothing to save her. He felt powerless. Nothing was stopping the flow of foul language that was pouring out of his mouth, only the sound of the kidnapper's voice silenced him.

"That should keep you _and_ Christine in line. Like I said before, if the money isn't at the train station in six hours, Christine and Michael will die. You should be receiving a package soon." There was a pause, as if waiting for any protest from Booth, "Six hours." The line went dead.

"Agent Booth," The security guard from before raced up the steps, "We were able to figure out the general area of the call but-"

"But what?" Booth snapped.

The security guard shook his head, "There was too much interference, wherever he was... it didn't give off a clear signal."

Booth ran a hand through his hair before resting them on his hips, "You record the call?"

"Of course."

He glanced at Brennan, "Take the recording to Angela. Maybe she can figure something out."

As the security guard jogged down from the platform, Brennan took hold of Booth's jacket and pulled him to the side.

"What did she say?" Her eyes searched his for some sort of unspoken answer.

"Christine told me what they looked like... She wasn't able to finish- But what she was able to tell me should help." Booth watched Brennan carefully, "Uh... 6'4'', she said osteoporosis and that he was blonde, that they were definitely male, and- and then she was cut off."

"There should only be a handful of men that are that tall and have osteoporosis. It should be easy to find who he is." Brennan looked at him hopefully.

Booth nodded his head slowly, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand, "I-I just feel so useless, Bones."

She nodded, "I know... I feel that way too..."

He dragged her into a hug, burying his head into her hair.

* * *

I thought tonight's episode was adorable :D I'm guessing that a bunch of fans were bothering the producers for more Brennan/Booth kissing time. lol, anyways I hope you were happy with Michael's face time. I miss him in the show. I want to see Michael and Christine on a play date as babies, have the two being watched by Max and Angela's dad at the same time XD That would be interesting.

Thanks for all the comments and reading! I have star testing tomorrow morning :o And it's math... which I suck at soooo... yeah ha ha ha, Thank you again!


	4. Chapter 4

The lab seemed stuffier than usual, causing everyone to shed their coats and turn on the AC. Angela stood stiffly in front of the Angelatron, waiting for a match. Booth had told her what Christine had been able to say so she could run it through the system. She bit her lip in concentration, Christine was smart, but she really wished she had said something about Michael. Was he alright? Where was he? Was he even alive?

Angela pushed her thoughts to the furthest corners of her mind, something hard for a mother to do when their child is in danger. Brennan stepped into the room cautiously, she was just as worried as everyone else, but if you didn't know her, she would seem fine. Angela turned to face her friend, giving her a sorrowful glance.

Brennan exhaled roughly, "Nothing yet?"

"No, I've run the description through the FBI database as well as all the nearby hospitals. No one has ever heard of, or seen, a man with Christine's description." Angela dropped into a chair tiredly.

"Are you saying Christine was wrong?" Brennan asked.

Angela shook her head, "I'm saying that, without an age, we have no idea who this guy could be."

Brennan stepped in front of the screen, watching faces flicker by every few seconds. She paused, "There's more than one kidnapper, correct?"

Angela met her eyes, "Yeah..."

"So maybe Christine was describing _both_ of her captors."

"Oh," Angela muttered, "_Oh!_ So if we can figure out which physical appearance goes with which person, we can find out who took our kids."

Brennan and Angela shared their first real smile in three hours.

* * *

Fabric was pushed into her mouth, making Christine gag at the dusty flavor. Narrowing her eyes at her kidnapper, her arm was broken. When she fell onto the concrete, she had landed on her arm, causing it to fracture. Christine winced against the pain in her arm as she tried to move it. Hopefully her dad had understood what she was talking about, or at least remembered what she had said. If they were to find out who these people were, it was crucial. Christine figured that if they were to ever call her parents again, she wouldn't be put on the phone.

Sturdy fingers pinched her chin, hot breath washed over her face, "Next time you try something like that, you wont _just_ get a broken arm."

The cloth in her mouth kept her from whimpering.

* * *

A scream woke Michael up, his cheek digging against gravel in a puddle. No one had turned his chair upright, leaving him on the floor with no way to move. He grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, stretching his fingers out to feel around himself. The floor itself was concrete, most likely washed down from previous uses. His fingers brushed against something indented in the ground, rough holes evenly spaced apart. A drain.

Michael hastily felt for the bump or curve of a screw. In a few seconds, he found what he was looking for. The gritty feel of the turning axis dug into the tips of his fingers, causing him to grin. A harsh light caused his smile to disappear, his hands going back to their original position. He could only make out feet and a pair of legs. Why of all times did they have to check up on him at that moment? At least he might be able to figure out if there was a locking devise on the door. All he would have to do is listen.

The figure hunched over Michael, and gave a cluck of his tongue, "You hear your friend?"

The scream.

"If you try anything like that, we'll kill you."

Michael found his voice, "W-What did she do? Is she alright? Where is Christine?"

"Christine's fine," The way he said her voice... it sounded wrong, "She tried to tell her daddy some things we didn't want her to say."

There was a pause, "What was she screaming about?"

The figure pulled Michael's chair upright, "Use your imagination," and with that he turned to leave.

Michael needed to get back onto the floor, he needed that screw. "Y-You guys are ass holes!"

This caused the figure to pause, but he only gave a chuckle, "You trying to get me mad?"

Michael rolled spit around in his mouth before letting it fly, "Screw you!"

The mass turned around, folding it's arms in disapproval, "I would stop if I were you."

"When I find out who you are, I'm gonna kick your ass!" Michael spat.

Something he said made the man laugh, "_You_ think you can kick _my_ ass?"

Michael continued, "What? You afraid to see if I'm right?"

The silhouette grew closer and placed a hand on the chair back before plunging the other into Michael's stomach. The fist came again, and again, and again. Michael wheezed inbetween hits, cursing himself for doing something so stupid. This guy was holding the chair so it wouldn't go anywhere, he should've just waited until he left to tip it back onto it's side. The final blow was to the side of his head, causing his vision to shake and dim. Michael looked up to see his captor, blood swam in his mouth and dripped down the side of his face. He felt the need to puke, to get rid of whatever was in his stomach.

He spat on the floor, "Cheap shots. If you haven't noticed, I'm a little tied up at the moment. Maybe you can cut me out and we can finish this like real men."

Another laugh, "This kid's good." The laughing stopped, "But not good enough."

Michael watched him walk away, closing the door behind him, a bolt clicked into place. Most likely something on the outside. Even if he did break free, that didn't garantee getting through that first door. And when they found him walking around his cell, what would they do to him? What would they do to Christine? He pursed his lips in consentration, despite the danger and harm he would cause to himself and possibly Christine, he wanted to take that chance. Michael began swinging his weight to the sides of the chair, bracing himself as it finally tipped enough to topple over. His cheek landed roughly in a gritty puddle and his fingers found the same drain. Whatever happened, at least he tried.

* * *

Sorry for such a short chapter :p I just wanted you guys to see what happened... and I'm running on spur of the moment ideas. I know how everything's gonna go down later, but I don't know how to get there. :/ Oh well, I'm glad so many people like this :) Thank you for the comments and faves and alerts! (Any spelling mistakes were accidental, I used a computer that doesnt have spelling corrections :/)


	5. Chapter 5

Hodgins felt his eyes flit across the screen as his thoughts powered through his mind. An endless playlist of his favorite memories with Michael and Angela filled his vision, making it impossible to read his findings. Berating himself for not focusing, he shook his head, hoping to rattle some sort of sense into himself. Make him see what was actually in front of him so he could create more memories with Michael in the future.

A loud ding brought his attention to the present, his vision clearing. His eyes widened, his breath hitching in his throat. Hodgins darted out of the room, flying up the steps of the platform, almost missing the key card slot. Cam looked up at him, startled. He caught his breath, his whole frame shaking visibly.

"I know where they are!" He burst.

* * *

It felt like hours had gone by, cutting the stupid tape with the stupid screw was going by slowly. By the time he got himself free, it would most likely be too late. Christine and him would be killed. Michael bit his lip roughly, his cheek grinding into the floor. He really hoped their deaths would be quick and painless. Sure, Christine would most likely be more tolerant of the pain, but suffering... that was something he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy.

He heard a slight rip. Tentatively, he felt the area with his fingertips, the tape had worn away enough to rip. Michael gave a pained smile and began sawing away even more frantically. Once his hands were free, he would be able to get his legs free. Michael's gaze strayed towards where the door would be. His only problem was getting past _that_. Then he would have to find Christine...

When they had been yelling to each other, it sounded as if she had been really close. The room next to him at least... maybe even down the hall. Sound didn't travel all that well in here so she _had_ to be nearby. Unless... their drain's were connected. The sound could have traveled through the pipes. If that was the case, she could be anywhere.

* * *

They didn't need to ask him twice. Hodgins launched into detail about how he had found them in his excitement only to be cut off by Booth. Hodgins paused for only a few seconds before explaining, bringing up a map on one of the nearby screens.

"They can't be holding them far from the station," Hodgins zoomed in on a more concentrated area, "This is a man made lake only fifteen miles away from Capitol South Metro. If we send a team down-"

Booth cut him off, pulling out his phone, "I'm on it."

"Dr. Brennan?" A voice piped up, all eyes turned on the mail carrier, "A package for a Dr. Temperance Brennan?"

She walked towards him, signing for the package before taking it over to the examination table. Cam grabbed the nearest sharp object and cut away the tape, opening the sides to see the contents. Packing peanuts filled the box to the brim, causing the team to frown. Brennan shoved her hands inside, peanuts spilling out as she dug around. She felt her hands brush against something inside, another , she pulled it out of the box, opening it before anyone else could get a good look of what it could be. Inside, sat a perfect, silver key. Brennan held everyone back, all eyes glued to the only piece of the children.

"Pull for prints," Brennan breathed.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment before shooting forwards again at a million miles per second. Angela had whisked the box away along with the key towards her office. Booth dialed a number on his phone and began barking orders. Hodgins was glued to the screen, trying to find schematics of the area as Cam hunched over evidence. Brennan frowned, a thought occuring to her.

If they knew the locker and the place as to where they were to put the money, then they should be able to find out who ordered the locker. Brennan pulled out her phone and called the train station. After several accounts of being put on hold, verifying her information, and several other seemingly pointless steps, all the information she needed was being emailed to her computer. Booth was headed out the door when she called out to him.

"I may need you..."

* * *

Alfred Davis sat stoically as Sweets observed him from the other side of the table. Sweets had insisted that he conducted the questioning for fear Booth or Brennan would harm the man before they even got the information needed to make the arrest. Booth's eyes bored into the side of Alfred's head, if looks could kill... Brennan was in the same predicament as Booth, wishing she could be in there, wanting him to have a Cerebrovascular accident.

"I didn't take the brats," This statement evoked a low growl from Booth.

Sweets raised his eyebrows, "Really? Then why is that locker under your name?"

Alfred smirked, "I can't believe this..." He watched Sweets cock his head to the side, "Have you ever heard of identity theft?"

"He's lying," Booth grumbled.

Brennan glanced at him, "How do you know?"

"Gut feeling," he replied.

She didn't argue because... despite the lack of evidence and the logical answer he had given Sweets, she didn't believe Alfred either. Brennan figured that she felt this way because she needed someone to blame, a normal reaction during times with great amounts of stress.

"You never reported anything about identity theft..." Sweets said, flipping through Alfred's file.

"They just bought a locker at Capitol South-"

"I never told you where the locker was..." Sweets interrupted.

He sputtered, "I-I found out through my bank records! This is ridiculous."

Sweets pursed his lips, "Not necessarily, you see... Several people said they saw you at the train station, renting out locker 307. Now, the right thing to do would be to tell us why you bought the locker and who it's for."

Alfred stared disbelievingly at Sweets, "I-I didn't do anything! I swear! If I don't tell you anything, y-you can't arrest me!"

Apparently, Booth had seen enough. Only then did Brennan realize that he had left the room. He burst through the interrogation room's door, his eyes landing on Alfred. Sweets stood to keep him away from the suspect but was pushed to the side. She watched as Booth grabbed Alfred by the collar and pinned him to the wall, his feet almost an inch off the ground.

"Where. Is. My. Daughter?" He ground out, his voice deadly quiet.

"I-I don't know! I-I-I just bought the locker for some guy!"

Booth pressed him harder against the wall, "What was his _name_?"

"Rodney! Rodney! That's all I got! Just Rodney, I swear!" He choked out, "He-he said he'd pay me two grand for my troubles! I swear to God!"

"He's telling the truth, Booth," Sweets said from behind.

He dropped Alfred to the ground, "You're pathetic."

* * *

There was room for his wrists to move about freely. Michael sucked in a shaky breath, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. He had been on edge for the past however long he had been cutting himself out. Every scrape or scratch that his ears picked up caused him to jump and drop the screw. He was secreting mass amounts of adrenaline, his muscles shaking from the tension and lack of movement.

He began wrestling with the tape, his wrists stretching and wearing down the sticky restraint. Michael felt his hands slipping through and began pulling harder despite the pain and discomfort. He would be free soon and couldn't stop now. He had come so far.

* * *

Sorry I haven't had Christine in the story for a while :p I mean unless you want to read about her being taped to a chair with a broken arm in a dark room then message me XD Oh gosh, I have this horrid cough, I had a fever on Sunday and I'm getting over it but I always get these awful coughs afterwards. :p

About Michael and Christine, I've read a few fics with him and Christine and either they're together (which I can't really see...) or they aren't really close at all. How I envision them is a brother sister relationship since they've been raised together. I could see them having some flirtatious moments but other than that, I don't see Michael being all shy and nervous around Christine. If you look at both of their parents, Hodgins and Angela and then Booth and Brennan, how can you expect _either_ of them to be all bashful? I can imagine Michael being more like Hodgins, being sarcastic and into conspiracies and Christine being a huge mix between Booth and Brennan.

Thank you for all the comments and support! You guys rock!


	6. Chapter 6

The pen flew across the tablet, eyes glued to the Angelatron screen. Brennan had relayed what Alfred had said in the interrogation room, and after some poking and prodding, told how they came across the information. Booth slamming someone against the wall was in the recesses of Angela's mind at this point in time, though. She was so much closer to finding her son, getting him back home. Angela's fingers shook as she clicked, dragged, and pointed at several files and pictures. There were several Rodneys in the FBI's database.

The information Christine had gotten to Booth had helped narrow down the possibilities, but the search was nearly impossible without a last name. Angela sighed exasperatedly, none of the Rodney's had osteoporosis. This meant there was an entire person unaccounted for. Flopping down into a chair, Angela refreshed her search and watched as the pictures flew past the screen for a second time.

A quiet knock could be heard from the doorway, causing Angela's gaze to stray from the screen. Brennan slowly made her way into the room, almost cautiously. She looked towards the screen, pursing her lips in attempt to hide her disappointment. But Angela could see the red rim of her eyes, the far away stare. Brennan was deeply concerned for the life of her child as well as Angela's.

"Did you... Did you find anything yet?" She asked despite already knowing the answer.

Angela shook her head, "Not yet..." Brennan glanced down to the floor before taking a seat across from Angela, "Where's Booth?"

"He's following up on the lake with a few other agents. If they find anything," she held up her phone that had been clasped in her hands, "he'll call us."

Neither spoke up, no comforting words were exchanged for both knew that they would be useless. The sound of their silence comforted one another, both knowing what the other was experiencing. How terrified and utterly useless they felt. It was enough to wait for the call.

* * *

The howl from a train sounded from the tracks not all that too far off. Booth kicked a pebble into the murky water at the sound. Nothing had been found, just a dirty lake and a few picnickers. A small brick building sat near the parking lot, it was empty, holding remnants of teenage sex and drugs. Nothing of importance was here. They had been so close... and yet... he should've known that this wasn't the place. Then again, what if it was and they were missing something?

Booth squinted against the sun's rays, and stepped towards one of the closer agents, "I want eyes on this place 24/7. You got me?"

His threatening tone didn't sway the agent, "Yes, sir."

* * *

The pain was searing, she could feel the bone move against her skin. Christine let out another grunt, half out of frustration half out of pain. She wanted to yell, wanted to punch her kidnapper in the face. With her good arm of course. She wanted out of this mess. But that wasn't happening any time soon. Were her parents going to pay the ransom? They were taking quite a long time to do so if they were. Christine figured it had something to do with the banks maximum withdrawal amount. She knew for a fact that her mother had enough money in her account to pay the ransom. Even with the information she gave to her parents and the rest of their team, it was hardly enough to come up with a single person in the DC area, let alone two. They must have given up on figuring out Michael and her location and decided to go down the easy route.

Scraping against the pavement caused Christine to open her eyes despite the flash of white she knew would be coming. Her captors stepped inside, blocking most of the light.

"Your parent's don't know what they're getting themselves into." The taller one said.

The smaller seemed to tremble, "M-Maybe we should... ya know... let 'em go before we get into too much trouble. If we let 'em go, the charges might be dropped."

"I doubt that would happen," Christine rasped, causing both men to look up at her.

"But if we cooperated fully-" The smaller spoke up.

The larger pushed the smaller out of the room and slammed the door behind him, leaving Christine alone with the stronger captor. She heard scratching and a few grunts, as if he were fumbling around with something that had a switch. A small light turned on and moved across the room until it landed in her eyes.

"How can we make it so that your parents pay the ransom, sweetheart?"

Christine bit her bruised lip. If her parents weren't paying the ransom... then they must be getting closer...

* * *

Can't wait to see the episode tomorrow! Seems so exciting, I can't believe it's the season finale already :( Hopefully Christine is okay (in the show I mean ;D)

Thanks for all the comments, favorites, watches, etc.!


	7. Chapter 7

Darkness encased him. All he could do was feel and tear at the bounds on his wrists. Michael hadn't stopped twisting and pulling at the tape since he first started, clinging onto a thread of hope that he would break free. Once he stopped, he would lose all hope of getting out of there. He hadn't given up on the idea of his parents coming to the rescue, it _was_ after all, a very likely possibility. But they weren't being fast enough, something was tripping them up, keeping them from finding the sewer or whatever he and Christine were trapped in.

An unusual snap made him draw in a calculated breath. It wasn't loud, and the freeing feeling he felt was almost unreal. Just to be sure, Michael pulled his hands towards his face, letting his dirt ridden fingers feel at his cheeks and eyes, run through his matted curls. With a growing laugh and unbreakable smile, he began working at his ankles.

* * *

Hodgins stared at the computer screen filled with molds, gravel, algae, microorganisms... the list went on and on, but none of these were able to pinpoint a specific area other than the man made lake Booth had checked out only an hour before. This notion seemed to stare him in the face. An hour ago. Another hour had passed with no new information about their children's whereabouts. His eyes glided to the small digital clock in the corner of the screen, making him cringe. They had four hours left. Four hours to find Michael and Christine before they were murdered.

A comforting touch to his shoulder caused him to flinch. He turned to Angela with glassy eyes. What was he supposed to tell her? He had nothing new, nothing to point them in the direction of Michael or Christine. He opened his mouth to speak but was silenced by her finger. She gave him a soft smile, something he deeply needed, and kissed his forehead. Angela already knew that he had nothing to tell her. She knew he was just as lost as everyone else, that the time on the clock was not in their favor, that everything seemed to be stacked against them.

"How're you holding up?" Hodgins managed to ask.

Angela shrugged with a heavy sigh, "Alright. The Angelatron is running through a facial recognition program again. Nothing's come up... Jack-"

It was his turn to stop her from talking, "Does your dad know?"

She raised an eyebrow, "What?"

"Did you tell your father about Michael?" He asked once again, measuring her reaction.

Angela ran a hand through her hair and stifled a frustrated laugh, "Are you kidding? I-I don't want to worry him. Besides... I don't want my dad running behind the FBI's backs with his own personal agenda. The ass holes that have Michael already have to deal with Booth, I don't think it would be necessary to sick my dad on them too."

"And they have me to worry about," Hodgins reminded her with a smile.

This time she gave a real laugh, "Oh yeah. You and your bugs."

"Hey! I can be pretty threatening when I want to-"

"Sure you can," she said, giving him a pat and a kiss.

Hodgins gave an exasperated sigh as his wife left his office. Another glance at the computer screen sent him into a frenzy. Why was that man made lake the _only_ place that he could match up to the evidence? What was he missing? What were _they_ missing? He looked up to see the familiar suit and tie walking towards Brennan's office. With one last glimpse of his computer screen, he jogged towards the FBI agent.

"Booth!"

This caused the other to stop in his tracks, "Don't have time."

"I-I know," Hodgins continued at his heels as Booth walked on, "I just wanted to ask what you found at the lake!"

Booth stopped, "Nothing, we found _nothing_ at the lake."

"Are you sure? Anything that looked suspicious? Were there any types of mosses that I was unaware of?"

"Wouldn't know." Booth nearly snapped.

Hodgins stepped in front of Booth with a hefty sigh, "You have to help me... I-I can't find anything. Just tell me anything you saw that wasn't in the evidence. What _could_ be there. Or at least let me get out there. Take water samples-"

Booth clapped a hand on Hodgins' shoulder, "_Find _something."

"I wont let you down."

* * *

"Any ideas?" He leered.

Christine held her tongue, she wouldn't tell them what they could do. Her parents must be close, they wouldn't be this fidgety if they weren't. What could she do that would keep them from hurting her or Michael. But then again, what _could_ she say without bringing any harm to her friend? With that, Christine began to chew on the inside of her cheek. Her parents wouldn't pay the ransom, no matter how much torture she or Michael was put through. It would just fan the flame of hatred her parents had for her captors.

Christine shook her head.

"You sure? Cause I got a few ideas," his voice turned low and menacing.

She held her breath, not daring to make a sound. She could feel his hot breath on her face, washing over her in a heart sinking stench. All she wanted was to spit in his face, hit him, just get him away from herself, but that would result in punishment. She was too afraid to do anything in his presence. Christine's teeth chattered, causing her captor to chuckle. She squirmed at the sound.

* * *

He was hovering again. Brennan could feel him standing over her, watching her work. It didn't bother her, she had gotten used to it long ago. Before they were even married, in fact. She stared at him expectantly, organizing a stack of papers neatly before filing them away for later use. Brennan knew the look on his face, he wanted to talk. She observed how his hands seemed to trade positions, switching between his hips to hanging at his sides.

"Yes?"

"I want to talk."

She nodded, "What about?"

Booth sat down at the edge of her desk, "I wanted to talk about... if we... if we don't find Christine in time."

Brennan stared, her eyes widening a fraction of an inch, "Why would you even... _say _that?"

"_Because,_ it's a possibility, Brennan." The tone of his voice almost frightened her, especially at the end. He hadn't used her nickname.

"Booth," She began to protest, only to be cut off.

"Please, just- _listen_," he begged, "I just-"

"No, we _will_ find her. Booth, we'll find our daughter."

Booth rubbed his temples, "_Bones-"_

Brennan shook her head, "We can't give up. We have to try until the very end."

* * *

Oh gosh, last nights episode was insane! AHHHHH! No one in my house watches BONES so it's kinda pointless when I'm freaking out about the season finale by myself. Ha ha ha XD So I'm going to the doctors tomorrow to see if I have asthma :p I think my cold or whatever I have aggravated it if that is the case so... we'll see.

Thanks for all the comments and love!


	8. Chapter 8

Michael stood unsteadily, light headedness settling in from the sudden movement. He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed in deeply through his nose, willing himself not to black out again. If his captors found him loose, they'd most likely kill him. The big guy certainly wouldn't mind beating him to death after all the taunting he had done earlier. If he wanted to save Christine and get them both out of their current situation, he'd need to stay conscious.

Once the dizziness subsided, Michael stumbled forwards, feeling for the wall. When he made contact, he let his fingers ghost over the cool surface, feeling for the indentations of the door and locking mechanisms. A smile lit up his face, what felt like a bolt greeted his hands. Michael unlatched the door, his heart racing in his chest, this was it. Once he made it out of his room, he would be free. All he would need to do is find Christine and they could get out of there together.

He gave it a tug. The door stood steadily. Another tug, only a dull thud was gained from the process. Michael felt for some sort of handle and tugged once again. His heart sank in his chest, he had forgotten about the lock he had heard from the outside earlier. Michael rose his hand, smacking the door with the side of his fist. He was still trapped. There was no way he was getting out of there with Christine. They would rot and die in there...

A sudden thought occurred to him. If he were to make enough noise, they would open the door, giving him a chance to run. Michael felt for the door again, and began screaming as loudly as he could, pounding against it with the palms of his hands. As he sucked in a deep breath, he could hear the grumbling of his captor. Michael took several steps back and readied himself for the blast of white. This was it. He was going to do it.

* * *

"Booth!" Hodgins yelled, causing the agent to jerk around.

"You find something?"

"Tire treads," Hodgins explained hastily, running towards the platform with his camera, "They're a match to the ones we found in front of your house. It means they're at the man made lake. We just need to look harder. We're so close!"

Booth pulled out his cellphone, "I want agents and medical personnel at 39.112547,-76.811063." Booth snapped his phone shut, "Tell Brennan where I'm headed."

"Hey," Hodgins called out, "Booth, I'm coming with you."

He paused for only a fraction of a second, "Then let's go."

"I have an ID on our kidnapper," Angela said suddenly, walking towards them, followed closely by Brennan and Cam.

Booth shook his head, "We've got a location, FBI units are on their way-"

Angela tossed her file to the side, "Then we're coming with you."

* * *

The door swung open, a shout. Michael didn't take the time to listen to what was said or who said it, he shut his eyes and lunged forwards with all his might, throwing his weight at whoever was blocking the door. It felt as if he had hit a solid object, and he bounced off as if he weighed nothing. Michael winced up at the shadow looming over him. A large hand gripped his collar pulling him into the air.

"I thought you knew not to mess with me," The figure spat.

Michael didn't make a sound. With his feet dangling from the ground, he wasn't in any place to be making sarcastic remarks to this guy. Anger and hatred bubbled up inside, he felt as if he were going to burst. From fear, from spite... Michael jammed his knee into his captor's crotch, instantly being freed from the vice like grip. Michael staggered to his feet before running out of the door, nearly tripping over his kidnapper.

"Christine!" He screamed, "Christine!"

Half blind, Michael used the wall as guidance, trying to keep his bearings. He was screwed if he was caught. But right now he needed to find Christine's door. He wasn't leaving without her.

* * *

Booth drove like a mad man, his heart pounded in his chest. Hodgins was certain that this was the place, and it had better be. But even with his doubts, Booth wasn't taking any chances. His siren blared loudly, scattering the cars on the road just in time before he barreled past. He glanced into the rear-view-mirror, watching everyone's tense stare's. He had felt so helpless the entire five past hours, and now he actually had something to go on.

_Don't worry Christine. We'll find you._

* * *

A muffled voice shouted through the door. Then pounded. Christine looked up. Were her parents there? They were there! They would save her! Christine felt her heart leap into her throat. Did they have the keys? Why was it taking them so long to open the door? If they had her kidnappers in custody, wouldn't they be able to get her out? Then she listened to the voice... _Michael_.

"Christine!"

"Michael?" She shouted back.

"The doors locked! I can't open it, I don't have they key!" Despite his yelling, she could barely understand what he was saying.

"How'd you get out?" She asked.

"No time! I can't get the door op-"

Christine cut him off, "Then get out of here! Tell my parents where I am, They'll find me!"

He began to argue,"No, I'm not-"

"If you don't leave, then they'll never find us!" She shouted over him, "Now go!"

She listened in for his footsteps. No sound could be heard. And then... there was loud cussing. Were her captors going after Michael or were they coming after her? Was the cussing from Michael? Christine felt her chest tighten at the thought. But he was a few seconds ahead of them, they couldn't possibly catch up to him that quickly. The creak of the bolt made her feel sick, suddenly wishing that Michael had stayed... but that would most likely result in his death. At least from her death, Michael would be free.

* * *

Hallways of concrete and piping threw Micheal off, the only thing keeping him on a strait pathway was the faded green arrows on the walls, which, to him, looked like green blobs with a very sharp point at the end. He clutched his stomach as he breathlessly jogged through the underground maze. He stopped at a paved staircase that lead up into darkness. Michael turned back to where Christine was... She had told him to leave, and he was more than happy to run, but part of him wanted to stay with her. Find another way to open the door.

Sharp echos ran off the walls, someone was running towards him. Without a second thought, Michael darted up the stairs into the darkness. He slammed into a wooden panel or door, forcing him backwards. Regaining his balance, Michael felt for a door handle, pushed against the wood panels, tried sliding it to the side, pulling it outwards. Nothing worked. Michael felt tears slide down his face. It wasn't fair. He had come all this way, and abandoned his best friend only to be trapped in the end anyways.

Michael pounded against the door and managed to choke out, "Someone? Help! Someone, help me!"

* * *

Brennan looked over the landscape, now covered in FBI agents as they searched for their missing children. Several conversations could be overheard, but a small voice grabbed her attention. She walked towards the sound, wondering if she was hearing things. She traced the voice back to the abandoned building, straining to listen for the voice. The sound grew louder. Brennan pressed the door open cautiously, hearing a light pounding coming from the bookshelf. And suddenly-

"Please! M-My name i-is Michael H-Hodgins-"

"I need agents over here!" She yelled suddenly.

"Brennan? Dr. Brennan, is that you!" It sounded as if he were sobbing.

"Yes, it's me. I'm here, Michael... Where's Christine?" Brennan asked, stepping back to let agents into the room.

There was a pause.

"Michael?"

"She's still back there. I-I couldn't get her door open... and I couldn't see- It was so dark..."

Angela and Hodgins burst through the room, "Is that Michael?" Angela asked breathlessly.

"Mom!" He shouted through the barrier.

Several agents pushed the bookcase over, opening up a whole in the wall. Michael squinted in the light as he was pulled out into the room. Several agents rushed inside the opening, yelling warnings to whoever was down there. Booth followed them quickly, his gun drawn. Brennan watched him disappear, knowing he would bring their daughter to the surface. She turned back to face Angela, Hodgins, and Michael. They showered their child in kisses, squeezing him tightly in their arms. Michael glanced towards Brennan, his grubby face hitching up into a smile. His curly hair was matted against his forehead, sweat and tears pouring down his face.

Angela gave him a teary kiss on the cheek, ignoring the dirt and blood, "I'm so glad you're okay."

"Yeah," He glanced down, "I hope we can say the same for Christine..."

* * *

Thank you for reading! A few more chapters before this finishes up! :D


	9. Chapter 9

Blood thundered in his ears, his heart raced with the thunder of footsteps. Everything was so loud, so chaotic. Agents had poured into the wall. Getting Christine was top priority, and this would most likely become a hostage situation if they didn't get things calmed down soon. Booth's chest tightened at the thought of his daughter with a gun to her temple. Despite the fact that it would give him permission to shoot down the bastards that took Christine and Michael, he would rather that it didn't happen. No matter how much he wanted to kill them, he just wanted his daughter back in his arms.

As Booth turned down another hallway, several agents backed up the area, their guns drawn. Booth heard someone give a warning, a _'let go of the girl.' _His heart sank. Booth pushed past several agents, his eyes locking onto Christine's as he neared the front. One arm hung limply to her side, twisted at an odd angle, while the other gripped at the arm around her throat, trying to pull away from her captor.

_'Rodney'_ Booth mentally spat.

"Da-" the barrel pushed further into her temple at the sound of her voice.

"Put the gun down, Rodney." Booth managed in a strangled tone.

He shook his head violently, "Not until I get the money."

Booth glanced between Christine and Rodney, gauging the shot "You know that's not how it's gonna go down."

"Give me the money, or I swear to God I'll shoot," Christine gave a quiet whimper at the idea.

"If you shoot my kid, then I have no reason not to kill you. Now put the gun down, and let her go before I take you down." Booth countered, his gun trained on Rodney.

There was a long pause, and his grip on the gun seemed to falter before it tightened once again, "Give me the money, Agent Booth."

Christine stared at her father, cuts and bruises masked her face, making her almost unrecognizable. But it was in fact his daughter, with a broken arm, soiled clothing... damaged. Booth felt his blood boil at the scene. She should be safe at home, not barely standing with a gun to her head. Booth planted his feet on the floor, he was not letting this man take his daughter from him. His Christine, his baby girl.

"One last chance, Rodney. Now put the gun down, and let the girl go." He ground out, his voice deadly, venomous.

Rodney's eyes flickered between Booth and the several other agents blocking his exit. Defeat filled his eyes as placed the gun at his feet and let go of Christine. Rodney raised his hands above his head as agents rushed towards him, taking his weapon, and placing him under arrest.

Booth hurried to Christine as she braced herself against the wall with the help of a few other agents. Her eyes were bloodshot and red, her light skin a dark blue and purple.

Christine gave a half choked sob and fell into her father's arms. Booth embraced her tightly as she swung her good arm around his shoulder. He buried his head into her hair despite it being mud caked and matted. She was crying, trying to speak but was unable to utter a complete sentence, let alone words. Booth pulled her away at arms length and drank her in.

She gave him a half smile, one that Brennan had said looked so much like his own, "C-can you get me out of here? Please?" Christine glanced towards Rodney and gave a small shudder before adding, "There was a- uh..." she cleared her throat hoarsely, "Second man..."

Booth glanced at the agents around him before back at his daughter, "We'll get him, he couldn't have gone far."

* * *

With every second that had ticked by, Brennan became even more wound up than before. Her heart pounded in her chest, as she debated whether or not to go down into the hidden passage herself. Brennan was still considering the thought when they appeared. Booth was carrying Christine up the stairs, one arm slung around his neck while the other rested on her stomach, twisted unnaturally.

She instantly connected the dots. Broken arm. Brennan rushed to his and Christine's side, gingerly picking up her arm to examine the damages. Christine gave a pained groan from the contact.

The second group of agents held Rodney, his hands placed behind his back as they filed him outside and into an SUV. Brennan stepped in front of the group, forcing them to stop the process and watch curiously. She pulled her hand back and brought it forward with as much force as she could muster, giving him a red and stinging mark on his cheek. Rodney's head was jerked to the side from the rough contact, and only stared back when he straitened himself. Brennan wanted to go for more, she could have, and part of her felt like she _should_ have. But she didn't.

"Glad that _someone_ was able to hit him." Booth remarked from behind, his eyes digging into the back of Rodney's skull.

Michael spoke up, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders as he stood closely to Booth and Christine, "When I got out of there..." He paused, looking down at his childhood friend, "I managed to uh... kick him where it counts."

Hodgins beamed at his son, giving him a side hug, "That's my boy."

Angela rolled her eyes, planting a kiss on Michael's cheek for the umpteenth time. Michael ignored the interaction, watching Christine steadily, almost as if he took his eyes off of her, she would be back down in the hole with their captors. Booth muttered something to Christine, bringing her towards several medical attendants followed closely by Brennan.

Brennan watched them with a critical eye as they set Christine's arm before wrapping it in gauze and placing it in a sling. _Very primitive_, she noted, _but it will do. _She watched as they went through the motions, asking questions, seeing for signs of a concussion, which had been present in Micheal's case. The list went on, leaving them at the scene for another several minutes.

Booth spoke with a group of agents, informing them of the accomplice that hadn't made an appearance. Christine was able to give them a few ideas on what he could look like, and notified them that the second man had osteoporosis. Angela offered to draw up what he could look like with the children's help, but both explained that they had never seen their kidnappers faces.

Once Christine's medical evaluation was completed, nothing all too serious, several of the medical staff advised Brennan and Booth to take Michael and Christine to a hospital to check for all possibilities. This led to a scolded by Brennan, accusing them of her knowledge compared to their own. To everyone's surprise, the medical staff backed down, understanding that the ordeal had caused a great amount of stress on everyone, which would explain Dr. Brennan's rude outburst.

* * *

The ride back to the Hoover was long and bumpy, an uncomfortable ride for Christine, as her arm would bounce around with each and every crack and dip in the road. She leaned into her seat and turned to look at Michael. He hadn't said a word to her since they left the lake. In fact, no one in the car was talking. She felt her stomach lurch at another dip before giving a low growl. Christine's cheeks flushed. Michael's stomach followed her own, gurgling in protest at the lack of food.

Christine cleared her throat, "Hey... can we... uh- stop at the nearest burger place? I haven't eaten since lunch yesterday..."

Booth glanced in the rear-view-mirror, "Is anyone even open? It's five in the morning-"

"McDonald's..." Michael offered, squinting out the window, "W-Where are we again? I can't really see anything... It's all just a bunch of blobs."

Angela turned around, handing her son a pair of cracked glasses, "We found _these_ behind the house in the forest."

He took them gratefully, "Yeah, sorry."

She rubbed his cheek with her thumb, "Don't be sorry."

Michael gave her a sheepish grin before looking out the window and continuing, "Ah yeah. McDonald's only a few blocks away, Mr. B."

Christine watched her dad give a slight nod of his head with the smallest of smiles.

* * *

Sweets folded his hands in front of him methodically, eying Rodney who sat across the table, "So..."

"I'm not saying anything," Rodney spat shortly, his eyes narrowing at the shrink.

Sweets raised his eyebrows, "You don't have to. We already know that you're one of the kidnappers, and you were caught holding a gun to an agent's _child_. The least you can do is tell us who your accomplice is. Or maybe even shine some light as to why you would kidnap an FBI agent's daughter and two forensic scientist's son? If you cooperate, you may see some leniency- "

He shook his head, "Even if I do, my cooperation would be over looked. I'm just as screwed either way."

* * *

His fingernails dug into the palms of his hands, biting into the skin painfully. But Booth didn't care, it was taking everything he had not to go marching into that room and beating that man senseless. All he could do was sit and listen. If he wanted to find the other man that harmed Christine and Michael he would have to keep a fair distance away from Rodney. The last thing he wanted was desk duty. But it looked like this guy needed a little convincing.

He contemplated the possibilities, wondering if Sweets would immediately throw him out of the interrogation room or not. Booth decided to go for it, no point in standing around doing nothing while their second kidnapper was loose in DC. In a few seconds, he had switched rooms, and Sweets sat unmoving at the table. He had probably figured this would happen, but made no protest of his being there.

Rodney squirmed under Booth's unwavering stare.

Booth sat down in the chair next to Sweets, he would play nice, and if Rodney didn't say anything then either, _then_ he would get rough, "Who's your accomplice?"

Rodney gave him a calculated smile, "You think _that_ will convince me?"

Sweets gave a long and drawn out sigh, glancing between Booth and their criminal. They would be there a while.

* * *

A tentative knock sounded at the door. Christine called out, letting the person know that they could come inside. Brennan and Angela had taken both Christine and Michael to the hospital, not bothering with them getting cleaned up before doing so.

With Brennan being a published author, them not having an appointment didn't seem to matter all that much. Christine still had no idea how that worked, and had reassured her mother and father that she was fine, but convincing them of that was impossible.

Michael cracked the door open, biting his lip as he did so. She motioned for him to come in with a reassuring smile. He stepped inside, a wave of relief washing over his features at her friendliness. Christine scooted over on the medical table, making room for him to join her. He couldn't help but glance down at her arm, still wrapped in gauze and in sling from earlier. Michael glanced around, noting the absence of her mother.

"Where's your mom?" He asked curiously, his eyes now roaming the room.

Several posters about young people's health lined the wall along with pamphlets on several chronic illnesses. The back of the door had a poster of a tooth talking about going to the dentist, which confused both of them greatly. Usually hospitals talked about your health in a... non orthodontial way. Michael raised his eyebrow at the cheerful tooth before looking towards Christine once again.

Christine shook her head with a roll of her eyes, "She's in the waiting room. She had been criticizing the doctor when he walked in, and asked him if he really had gone to school for his degree. Then he asked her if she was a doctor... I'm not sure he really realized who she was..."

Michael gave a nervous laugh, "Yeah, my mom is probably sitting out with her. I wanted to come in here before we went back to the Jeffersonian." He glanced up at Christine, biting his chapped lip for the second time.

"What's wrong?" She asked suddenly.

He placed his hands in his lap with great care, "I'm sorry I left you back there."

Christine shook her head, "You had to. We both know that if you didn't we'd bo-"

"No! I feel really bad. Don't tell me it was logical, or what saved us." He cut her off sharply, pausing to see if she would protest. She gave none and so he continued in a calmer manner, "I was terrified, ya know? I thought I was gonna die in there. I just feel like if I thought the plan through, we could've both gotten out of there together and you wouldn't have that." Michael nodded towards her broken arm.

"What... this?" She moved her arm slightly, "He broke that before you escaped. _This_ isn't your fault... _Staccato_." She teased lightly, giving his ribs a nudge, hoping to lighten the heavy mood that had settled over them.

The corners of his mouth twitched up, "_Stapes_." He countered.

Christine smirked at her nickname. His previous worries seemed to have been pushed aside for the moment. They sat in comfortable silence until the doctor entered the room, describing what was needed to be done and what prescriptions he would like for her to pick up.

Doctor Albert seemed confident now that her mother was out of the room. He addressed the two with an authoritative tone now that his ego was no longer at risk, figuring that Christine and Michael had the intelligence of any normal sixteen and seventeen year old in the world. They eyed him with humor, keeping their comments to themselves as he drawled on and on, now far into a lecture about bone marrow. Christine was only half listening and raised her eyebrows in question when she heard her name.

"The color?"

She stared blankly at Dr. Albert, "The what?"

"Of the cast," Michael muttered helpfully.

After much heated debate, the color was chosen and the two left the room in only a short matter of time. Christine met with her mother in the other room, receiving another tight hug, before they left for the Jeffersonian. All Christine wanted to do was shower and get some rest. But, of course, since their second kidnapper was on the loose, everyone had agreed the children were to go there.

The only bright side to this? There were guards everywhere, and they would be safe.


	10. Chapter 10

Booth's patience was wearing thin. His hands had been balled into tight fists for the past several minutes, and he felt that it soon wouldn't be enough to hold him back from Rodney. The man wasn't saying anything, and nothing Sweets or he said could change that.

After several more moments of silence, the kidnapper spoke up, "Are we going to sit here all day, Agent Booth? Or can I go now?"

"Not until you tell us who your accomplice is." Booth nearly growled.

It had been a long day, and Booth was running on empty. All the pent up energy he had when Christine and Michael were missing had drained, and it was showing. Rodney had obviously noticed, and had been grinning madly almost the entire time they were in the interrogation room. Sweets had also noticed, and sat quietly, observing everything that had been said in the past half hour.

"Excuse us for a moment," Sweets said, breaking the new bubble of silence in the room.

With a firm grip on Booth's arm, he pulled him out of the room and to the side of the hallway. Booth stared incredulously at Sweets as if he were about to smack him. Sweets glanced back at the door before speaking quietly, as if he feared Rodney would overhear them.

"He's confident-"

Booth snickered sarcastically, "You think?"

"But that only gets someone so far," Sweets continued, ignoring the fact he had been cut off, "Whoever was with him must be intelligent. He's sure that we'll never find the second person. But somethings off... as if he's... _admiring_ the other man."

"What do you mean?"

"Because Rodney is the leaderly type, it's strange that he would show so much emotion for another person. It's very protective. Now most of the time, people will throw each other under the bus in hopes they can walk away from their crimes unscathed. But Rodney is giving us no indication of who he was working with." Sweets explained, his gaze flickering between Booth and the door, "But why would he do that?"

Booth considered this for a moment, "A friend?"

Sweets pursed his lips with a shake of his head, "Too formal. We need someone who he would die for."

"The kids said it was another man..." Booth stopped short when his phone buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket and answered, "Booth-"

Sweets watched with interest as Booth's mouth seemed to open, his eyes widening only slightly at the information being given. It only took a few seconds before Booth hung up the phone and waltzed back into the room with Sweets still wondering what had been said.

* * *

"Take me to the Hoover," Christine demanded for a third time, her jaw jutting in defiance.

Brennan barely looked up from her desk files as she answered, "No, Christine. And that's final."

"I want to see dad," She argued, dropping onto the couch with a groan.

"You'll see him once we catch the second kidnapper." Brennan answered nonchalantly.

Christine rolled her eyes, "You guys don't even know who the second guy is! That could take _hours_."

"We do know who he is."

* * *

Booth slung himself down into the chair, a new confidence about him. Rodney cocked his head to the side at this, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion; wondering what had happened in the hallway. Sweets continued to stare confusedly at Booth, his eyebrows raised, hands shoved deeply into his pockets. Booth ignored him for the most part and watched Rodney carefully.

Booth cleared his throat, feeling a surge of pleasure rush through him when Rodney jumped at the sound. "Rodney... how's your brother?"

* * *

Christine's jaw dropped, "You do?" She stared at her mother in shock. "Why didn't you tell me? I have a right to know!"

Brennan shrugged, "I didn't think it was necessary. I thought it would be enough for you to know that your captors were being taken care of."

The younger huffed a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Mom, look at it this way... If you were in my shoes-"

"I wouldn't fit into your shoes," Brennan cut in abruptly.

There was a short pause. "Figure of speech, mom." Christine continued when she saw her mother nod. "If you were in my _situation_, wouldn't you want to know the identities of your kidnappers?"

Brennan nodded after a thoughtful moment. "Yes I would."

Christine collapsed onto the sofa, "Thank you!"

"So do you want to know?"

"Yes!"

* * *

Sweets made a silent "oh!" as Rodney squirmed in his seat. Booth felt the corner of his mouth twitch up into a smirk. _Gotcha, pal._ Composing himself once again, Booth stood from his seat and rounded the table to stand next to Rodney. He leaned down so his mouth was inches from Rodney's ear, and rested his hands against the table. He glanced towards Sweets who seemed to still be getting over who the second kidnapper was.

"Rodney? Where _is_ your little brother?" Booth's voice was soft yet intimidating.

"Y-you don't know what you're talking about." Rodney's eyes flickered between the table and Sweets.

Sweets sat down smoothly, his eyes now locked with Rodney's. "Your little brother is out there right now, running from the police. It would be safer for him if you told us where he is."

Rodney bit his lip in concentration. Booth's mouth flattened into a thin line, "C'mon Rodney. Where's Timothy?"

This seemed to trigger something deep within Rodney as he fought against his restraints to grab at Booth. Sweets flinched at the sudden movement, but Booth grabbed a hold of his arms, and slammed them against the table. Louder this time, Booth asked again. "Where's Timothy?"

"I-I don't know!" The captor looked at Booth and spoke with all the honesty in the world. "I _don't_ know."

* * *

Christine held her head in her hand, "His _brother?_"

"Yes."

"Does Michael know?"

As if he had heard his name from across the lab, Michael charged into Brennan's office. His eyes were wide and his jaw unhinged. Christine stood at the door's slam. This answered her question, at least.

His eyes locked on Christine's. "Did she tell you about...?"

She nodded her head. "Does anyone know where he could be?"

Michael shrugged his shoulders, "All I know is the same as you. Your dad and Sweets are questioning Rodney."

His name made Christine shutter slightly. That name had been tainted for, probably, the rest of her life. And sadly, there were several Rodneys' at her school, which would make it even harder for both her and Michael to recover.

Christine looked at her mother, almost frantically asking, "Do you guys know anything?"

Brennan raised an eyebrow at her daughter. "About Rodney's brother? Nothing."

The thought of his brother running rampant through the DC area tied knots in Christine's stomach. Though he was the weaker one of the two brothers as he had...

"Mom!"

This startled both Brennan and Micheal.

Christine continued, her mouth moving almost too quickly for the other two to understand. "Check the database for their family's medical history!"

* * *

After getting nothing out of Rodney, Booth was about to give up when his phone rang a second time. He flipped it open with an irritable grumble before listening carefully to what was said. Again, Sweets could only watch as the faint murmur of the voice on the other end spoke. Booth's eyes widened a fraction of an inch before he snapped his phone shut with a satisfying click.

He darted towards the door. "Got 'em."

Sweets gave a tight smile and a wave before looking back down at Rodney with a heavy sigh.

* * *

It didn't take long to get to the medical center, and Booth, along with several other agents, stormed the place with extreme caution. Booth felt a strong sense of pride at the thought that his daughter helped figure out the possible location of Timothy. After making a few calls, they were able to find out that a man fitting Timothy's description went to visit the kidnappers' mother, Abigale Fredrick.

And even though Booth doubted that Timothy was carrying a weapon on his person, he didn't want to risk it. With his gun drawn, he crept toward Abigale Fredrick's room. With two agents at his heels, they moved to cover both ends of the door. Booth pushed the door open and took a quick step inside the room, observing his surroundings with a quick sweep.

Timothy's mother lay in a bed, tubes ran along her wrists and down her throat and nose. Her eyes were, thankfully, closed as if she were sleeping. Booth new that she was in a comatose state, and it was extremely unlikely she would witness any of this. Sitting across from Booth was Timothy, his back hunched, and hands raised in defeat. His bottom lip quivered as he took a few week steps out from behind the bed.

"I-I just wanted to say goodbye... We didn't want anyone to get hurt."

Booth lowered his weapon as the two agents came out from behind and cuffed Timothy. He watched the younger brother carefully as the FBI agents took great care in not harming the man.

"Then why'd you do it?" Booth asked.

Timothy looked up at Booth, his eyes watering. "We were gonna use the money to help our mother. We could've gotten a house out in a nice quiet area and kept her safe... I didn't want anyone to get hurt!"

"So you threatened my kid's life? Yeah, that _really_ sounds like you didn't want anyone hurt." Booth snapped.

"It was Rodney's idea!" He protested. "I swear it was Rodney. I-I-I-" He broke down sobbing.

Booth waved him off and watched as the agents dragged Timothy out of the room.

* * *

Christine and Micheal sat in the backyard of the Booth house. They stared warily into the forest, watching each individual branch and leaf move. Every sound that was made caused the two to jump or stand from their place.

"You think we'll ever be able to go back in there?" Micheal asked, pushing his taped glasses up his nose.

Christine shrugged densely. "Probably. It would be unlikely that we would _never_ go back into the forest. Besides, my tree house is back there and I'm _not_ abandoning it."

Micheal smirked with a shake of his head. "What do you think the kids at school'll do?"

She gave him a sly smile, "All the girls will fawn over you. I can see it now 'Oh, _Michael_. You escaped from your kidnappers? You big hunksicle!"

"'Hunksicle?' Are you kidding?" Michael laughed. "You have nothing to worry about. Besides, the guys'll be all over you. 'Christine, can I sign your cast?'"

Christine shoved him good naturedly, "Shut up, Staccato. And why are you so worried about what the guys will be doing at the school?"

Michael shrugged, turning the question back around on her. "Why are you so worried about what the girls at school will do?"

She sat with her lips quirked to the side. "Because we're partners."

"Lab partners." Michael corrected.

"No. Partners. And when we go back to school, we're gonna stick together. No hierarchy of males-"

"Or females," Michael added.

"Or females," Christine agreed with a smile, "will tear us apart. Deal?" She stuck her hand out for a shake.

Michael took her hand and gave it a firm shake. "Deal."

* * *

Thank you all for reading this. And YES, THIS IS THE END! No more chapters for this fic! Thank you for all the support and comments and fans and reads and everything! You guys rock my socks!


End file.
